Swingset
by NajikaSun
Summary: When America passes by an old park he used to go to with England growing up, he finds none other than England there, reminiscing about the very same thing.


Every evening, just as the dark orange light would start to leave the sky, Alfred F. Jones made sure he walked home from the world meetings alone.

He simply loved the feeling of the evening air around him. Despite his usual brash and childish nature, his mind was surprisingly calm and more-than-capable of thinking deeply; he just chose not to most of the time. But Alfred adored the breeze that would brush over his cheekbones and weave through his blonde hair. Especially the way it smelled when the sun had set after it had rained during the day; that was something he felt he could never live without _(though he had no intentions of letting anyone else know!)_.Those moments were moments he could drown in his own thoughts and lose himself in the silence of the world. He could be someone that nobody knew he was, that nobody would even recognize; he could be somebody else besides the "childish excuse for a world power" that America was all-too-often referred to. He was wading through the rather deep puddles on his daily walk home in the middle of November, when a strange noise interrupted his thoughts.

He turned his head to the left, face to face with an old, abandoned park that had been there for as long as he could remember - he recalled playing there as a child many, many times growing up. The structure of it was falling apart, and there was a "Due for Demolition" sign that had been raised for what appeared to be a few weeks now, though Alfred never paid it much mind as of the late. He heard little creaks coming from deeper in the park's remains, most likely from the slight wind blowing around a loose piece of equipment. Out of sheer curiosity, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped over the completely ineffective caution tape surrounding the park, making his way into the abandoned park.

Alfred examined the rotting remains of what was once a park as he walked by, every once in a while pausing or further examining a structure's features. The slide he had been afraid of as a tiny child was now on its side, rusting away into a deep red, jagged metal scrap. The molding wood of the main structures was hardly erect anymore; the entire park was dissolving away due to its prolonged exposure to the harsh elements of nature. Everything seemed so large to him growing up, and now, he could see over the top of every single one of the faded structures from his toes. There were small piles of rubble and destroyed pieces of equipment that Alfred couldn't even recognize anymore.

He thought back to the times he spent here with _that person_, all the things they would do together here at this park that was to be demolished in a few days. He remembered always coming here once _that person_returned from the world meetings, and Alfred would always be so delighted to play here, each and every day he could. He laughed here, he cried here, he bled here, he learned here, he practically lived here as a child. He pushed up his glasses with two fingers, swallowing his nostalgia, and turned his attention back to the creaking sounds that echoed across the barren evening.

Alfred slowly trudged past the piles of scrap metal and dirt, and, after turning a corner, he saw the silhouette of a person, sitting on the only functioning swing on the old and broken swingset, the rusty chains creaking as they bared this person's weight.

The streetlamps flickered to life as the last light faded behind the tall buildings, illuminating the two broken swings and none other than the person who had taken Alfred to this place all those years ago.

This frail and vulnerable person on the swing was Arthur Kirkland, and his face was buried in his hands.

Alfred blinked a few times and his eyes widened. He didn't know how to react to this at first, so he quickly took refuge behind a heap of various metallic and wooden scraps. His mind was reeling with questions, all revolving around the nation who sat a few feet from him.

_Why was England here?_

_Did England know that he was here?_

_Was England crying?_

_Why was England crying?_

_Was England thinking the same thoughts he was a few minutes ago?_

Alfred paused.

_Did England...miss him?_

Alfred sighed quietly and lowered his head. _No, that can't be right._Arthur saw Alfred nearly every day at the world meetings, and all they ever did was bicker about burgers or eyebrows or other meaningless topics. Nothing was ever settled, and none of their disputes ever had any point. They were just always fighting.

_Always fighting._

Alfred pinched his brow between two fingers. He eventually decided to step out from his hiding place, his feet heavy as lead as he proceeded, and crept silently over to the other man. He stopped just about a foot in front of Arthur, looking down at the trembling nation. Alfred's mind shot back to the revolution, his eyes widening at this sudden memory. He remembered the war, he remembered every harsh word that was exchanged, he remembered how much it hurt to say what he did, but how much he needed to say what he did.

He remembered how hard England had _wept_once America had won.

And Alfred couldn't do anything about it at that time. However, he decided that, this time, he would do whatever he could to make things easier for the Englishman. Alfred didn't know what was wrong, and he didn't know what was causing this upset of emotions on Arthur's part, but he was going to be the hero he proclaimed he was, and help England through this.

He placed a firm hand on Arthur's trembling shoulder.

Arthur's head jerked up at Alfred's touch, and he gasped sharply through his nose. His eyes did not meet Alfred's, but Arthur recognized him immediately. England's hands lowered quickly to his lap, and he turned his head to the side, a quivering irritable expression on his face. His cheeks were tearstained and his eyes were red and his thick eyebrows were furrowed. He bit his lip and swallowed hard before speaking in his British accent, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

"Why are _you _here, America?"

"I was gonna ask the same thing, dude. What's goin' on? You okay?"

"That's none of your bloody concern. I'm _fine_."

"Don't be an ass."

"Leave me be, America."

"No way."

"_Go!_"

Arthur had stood up from the swing at this point and was glaring shakily at Alfred, rage dancing in his watery green eyes. Alfred just looked at him blankly, at a loss for words in this situation. There was a thick silence in the air before America opened his mouth to speak again. He mumbled the only words that were going through his mind at the moment.

"I saw you crying. Don't even try to hide that, you'll just make yourself look worse."

"You didn't see _anything! You can't say that!_" England jerked back and shouted in a harsh tone of voice. His hands were in fists by his sides, and he backed up a few steps away from the other nation. America lowered his eyes.

"Don't lie. You're still crying right now, you idiot."

"_LEAVE!_ Why won't you just leave like you _said_ you would!" The tone of voice England was shouting in was one less of anger and more of fear. Arthur ran forward and shoved Alfred in the chest with both hands, a violent act that he hoped would throw America off guard. Alfred stumbled backwards one step, but easily regained his balance and moved towards England again. Arthur's eyes were promptly covered by his right forearm, his other arm was limp by his side.

"_Why won't you just leave...?_"

Alfred knew this was coming, though he never expected the Revolution to reenter both their memories, especially not at the same time. He had assumed that, like many other problems Arthur faced, he'd simply drink them away and eventually learn never to pay the issues a second thought. Apparently he couldn't quite shrug off this one, considering Arthur's shoulders were shaking again and he was refusing to uncover his eyes.

"Arthur..." America mumbled as he walked closer to the upset England. Alfred's hands were buried deep in his pockets, and his nose and cheeks were pink with the briskness of the night. "...Did you come here 'cause it's..."

"The...The place we used to go...y-yes. That it is," Arthur said shakily. "I'd take y-you here every day, after the...world meetings because you s-simply _ADORED_it so much..."

Arthur didn't know how to react at first. He guessed right, for once. All he could bring himself to do was stare at the other nation for the time being.

Arthur's voice was no longer a voice, it was a series of quiet chokes and coughs being formed into incoherent words, of which Alfred could only make out a few things. England looked just about ready to make a mad dash for an escape route.

Alfred's eyes widened for a split second before his expression turned to one of soft adoration. A little smile was draped across his face, and his head was leaning slightly to the right. He scoffed through his nose before speaking.

"Hey, Arthur."

"Wh-What...?"

Alfred took a few steps closer; he was only an inch or so from England at this point. Alfred didn't react.

"Remember what this old place was called?"

Arthur took in a deep, wavering breath, then removed his hand from in front of his eyes. He looked down at his and Alfred's feet, his eyes still stinging with bitter tears that he didn't want to show. He nodded jerkily.

Alfred smiled and, in one swift movement, wrapped both his arms around Arthur, one hand on Arthur's upper back and one weaving through his messy hair, and pulled England's head to his chest. They had a prominent height difference that America only just noticed, but he paid it no mind. England was taken aback, but he said nothing.

"A-America, what are you-"

"Tell me what this place was called, Iggy."

"D-don't call me that, y-you bloody-"

"Tell me. I _know _you remember."

Arthur's voice cracked as he spoke the one word name of the abandoned park of their earlier years.

"_Fr-__Freedom..._"

"Exactly," America whispered as he held England tightly in his arms, and rested his chin on England's shoulder. He spoke softly, which was very unlike him, but neither of them seemed to care at the moment. They were both just absorbed in this embrace, and time seemed to stop just for them.

England's arms slowly found their way around Alfred, and held loosely onto his brown jacket. He sniffed. His hands were clutching onto the dark leather of America's jacket. America had never seen England like this before, not even while drunk, but he didn't mind. America wanted this too, perhaps just as badly as the other nation did.

"Y'know...even though I did that whole 'Declare Independence' thing, I never really wanted to leave you...well, not forever, I mean. 'Cause you're a pretty good guy, you know...?"

England didn't look up. He kept his red face buried in Alfred's shirt for the moment, embarrassed to lift his head and look at this grown man in his embrace. Alfred scoffed again.

"You always were shy."

Alfred removed his arms from around England, prompting a vicious head-shake and a tighter grip from Arthur, but Alfred paid it no mind. America reached down and put a hand down upon England's blonde head of hair once again, and Arthur slowly moved away from Alfred, looking slightly dejected.

"I-I apologize, I do not have any idea what c-came over m-"

England stopped talking once he felt the warmth of Alfred's hand on his left cheek.

"Just shut up for a sec."

America leaned down slowly towards England, his eyes shut, and gently touched his lips to Arthur's. He was very warm, despite the nippy weather, and he was only becoming warmer as the kiss went on. Alfred tilted his head to the left, then to the right, then pulled gently back, leaning his forehead against England's. His glasses were fogged up. He smiled.

England was beyond shocked. His face was bright red all the way to his ears, his vivid green eyes were wide open, and his tears had quelled. He was looking up at America for the first time tonight. Once the fog around America's glasses had cleared, crystal eyes met emerald, and small smiles were exchanged. Nothing could have broken that gaze that seemed to last an eternity.

Nobody said anything else that night, but the two nations walked home from the world meeting together, _hand-in-hand._


End file.
